Manumission
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: In the romantic chaos of the French Quarter, Rogue stumbles onto something that could change her relationship with Gambit forever.
1. A kind of magic

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, anymore than the great city of New Orleans does.  
  
Author's Notes: Now that my mini-saga is between installments, I sat down to compose this much shorter little story that came to me over the course of the last month. I hope it's half as well-received as "Unexpected" was; if it is, I shall be one darn happy writer.   
  
Look for a little bit of heat in this story, and I'm not just talking about the weather or the food. New Orleans is probably the headiest, sexiest city in the country, and if you've never been, book a flight immediately. Fuck Virginia, Louisiana is for lovers;)  
  
****  
  
Manumission  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Manumission: (French) To grant a slave freedom.  
  
****  
  
It was the lack of a sign that caught her attention. In a bedlam of sticky tourist traps, street vendors, and dried vomit from the previous night's debacles, Rogue felt herself strangely drawn to the one tiny corner of Bourbon Street that didn't scream merchandising.   
  
She slipped through the crowded street without notice; at the heart of the French Quarter, a woman with prominent white streaks through her auburn curls was hardly worth noting. The anonymity was refreshing. As she dodged a horse-drawn carriage, Rogue wondered if Remy felt the same way when he came back to the place of his birth. Did his eyes blend in here, or were they too much for the superstitious city?   
  
Had he not been tied up in…negotiations with the Thieves Guild, she might have asked him. As it was, she'd been left, for the fourth day in a row, to guide herself through New Orleans. It irked her. This was supposed to have been their vacation together. All right, so it couldn't be too romantic, but that didn't mean they had to carry on entirely separate agendas, meeting only for quick dinners at the Court of Two Sisters or just a Po' boy stand. It was bad enough that they spent their nights sweating in the cloying heat on opposite sides of a wrought iron-framed bed, which had obviously been designed decades earlier for much more exciting bedroom activities.  
  
Was it too much to ask for a little time for just the two of them? Without the Guild, without the tourists, and without their clothes?   
  
The entrance to the shop was set back from the sidewalk and painted a foreboding black. As soon as Rogue touched the aged wood to push the door open, she felt it. A cold fist gripped her heart, turning the sweat of humidity into the clamminess of blood loss. She took a breath. At the same time something was telling her to turn around and just buy some fruit at the Market, something else was compelling her to push the door open, go in, look around…find what she was searching for.   
  
There was the gentle jingle of bells over her head as she tentatively entered. She walked into cool air that was heavy with the pungent scents of incense, patchouli and musk. There was something nauseatingly sweet, too. Like decaying flowers, Rogue decided. It stuck in her throat, coating it, and she found herself unable to swallow.   
  
At first, she saw only darkness, like someone had draped a black cloak over her face. But as she moved further inside, the void gave way to light and she found herself emerging from a narrow hallway into a shop lit with a hundred fat, white candles. There were shelves and counters, just like any of the stores she'd ducked into that day. But whereas those stores boasted plastic skulls and rubber snakes, tacky magnets and coffee mugs, she was quite sure that the row of skulls to her left were real, and there wasn't anything in sight that was branded with the word "Naw'lins."   
  
Next to the skulls, there were bottles, topped with cork and filled with powders, oils, and herbs. Her gaze swung to her other side, and she nearly screamed. Snakes crawled over each other in a huge aquarium, their colors mixing together. Black, brown, red and yellow stripes. She was surprised she hadn't heard the hissing. The shop was silent, and she was, as far as she could tell, the only customer.  
  
It didn't take a lot of brain power to figure out what she had wandered into. How many guidebooks had she browsed through over the past four days that talked about New Orleans Voodoo? How many stories had Remy told her about sneaking down to Lake Pontchartrain as a child to watch the feverous rituals and ceremonies on the Day of the Dead? It was all too easy to write it off as local history or propaganda, and Remy's stories as just that, stories. But she was there, surrounded by the reality of the mysterious religion.   
  
And she wasn't frightened. Except the snakes making her skin crawl. Rogue backed away from them, and slammed into something solid. She whipped around, coming face to face with the biggest woman she'd ever seen, and considering the sort of people she'd encountered in her life, that was saying a lot.   
  
The woman's skin was almost as dark as the paint on the door. She towered a good foot over Rogue and was dressed in a brightly colored caftan with a matching piece of fabric twisted around her head. Her eyes stood out in stark white contrast to the rest of her face as she stared down at Rogue.   
  
"W'at you look fo'…you find here," she said. Her English was lilted like Remy's, but flavored with something different. Something heavier, earthier, but unworldly at the same time.   
  
Rogue shook her head slightly. "Ah have no idea what Ah'm lookin' for."   
  
The woman snorted, unfolding her arms. "Dis be yo' first time t'de city o' de dead?"  
  
"Ah…Ah came with my…he's my…we're kinda…not really." She licked her lower lip. "Yeah."   
  
The woman's eyes narrowed and were nearly lost in rolls of dark flesh. "You don' be human, chil'." She paused. "M'tant."  
  
"So?" Rogue found herself replying, defensively.  
  
"Not'ing wrong wit' dat. Dere're t'ings in dis world dat de ones who be walkin' freely in it won' ever let demselves see." The woman turned around. "Follow Mamàn Naquin."   
  
She hesitated as the woman was heading for a door, really nothing more than a black velvet curtain. "Ah'm not sure Ah…"  
  
"Dere somet'ing you be wantin', chil'." Naquin turned her head slightly to look back. "It's dere…in dose eyes." After another second, she continued on her way. "Dere be ways you can get it."   
  
Her heart pounded beneath her breast, but not out of fear. As formidable as the woman looked, Rogue knew she could take her down within seconds if necessary, by force or by her powers. It was just the startling truth behind what she said that had her body racing. There was something she wanted, something she wanted for so long that she couldn't even remember a time when she hadn't wanted it. But it was only within the past few days that it had elevated into a painful, all-consuming desire.   
  
She bit back her hesitations and followed the woman past the velvet and into the inner sanctum of her store.   
  
Naquin had settled herself on a pile of worn cushions, cross-legged. As Rogue entered, she gestured to another pile of cushions in the middle of a circle formed out of more dripping candles of various heights and shapes. "Sit," she ordered.   
  
When Rogue had situated herself directly in front of the woman, Naquin reached to her side and picked up a wooden bowl from the piles of bottles, bags and bones that sat around her, creating a strange sort of altar. She held it out in front of her. "Do you believe?"  
  
"Believe in what?" Rogue asked.  
  
"Anyt'ing, chil'. De old-world magicks…dey work fo' dose who believe."  
  
She lifted her shoulder. "Ah don' know what Ah believe in anymore. But Ah guess…yeah, Ah believe in somethin'. Ah mean, there's gotta be a reason why Ah was born like Ah…" Rogue stopped.   
  
Naquin fingered the contents of the bowl, spreading a fine, white chalk on her fingertips. "Yo' man…does he believe?"  
  
"Remy?" The cold parts of her body warmed just thinking about him. He was so full of life wherever he went, but here, in his city, he was a hundred times more so. His eyes crackled just a little brighter, his smile was just a little bit wider, and his accent was just a little bit thicker. She remembered the way he had touched his heart when they passed by Jackson Square and the grand cathedral that flanked it. "Ah think he believes."   
  
"Dere's great love w'en you speak o' him." The woman closed her eyes. "But you be innocent, chil. Dere's blood on dose lily white hands o' yo's…but dere be no mark o' pleasure."  
  
Rogue fought to keep breathing. "Ah…Ah've never…Ah can't…" Her mood snapped. "Ah don' need ya to tell me all the stuff Ah already know 'bout myself."  
  
With her eyes closed, Naquin swayed slightly, around and around, back and forth. "He waits fo' you..."   
  
"That's all he can do," she whispered.   
  
Naquin's eyes opened. "You want him." She reached for Rogue's hands.  
  
Rogue drew them away before the woman could touch her. The heat had prompted her to leave her gloves in their room that morning. "Don' touch me!"  
  
A full minute passed as Naquin considered her. Finally, she said, "Tell Mamàn w'at you want."   
  
Her chin trembled as she wrung her hands together at her breast. "Ah want…Ah wanna touch him. Ah wanna show him…that Ah love him."  
  
"Fo'ever, chil?"  
  
Rogue wanted to say yes, but she ended up shaking her head. "Just once…it'd be enough."  
  
Silence swamped the tiny room. "Dere no room for de selfish in magick. But you don' do dis fo' yo'self." The woman nodded. "I can help you, chil."   
  
"Wha'do Ah hafta do?" She brushed away an impending tear. "Don' Ah hafta believe in yer gods or somethin'?"   
  
"De key t'dis kind o' magick be in de heart," Naquin replied. "Close dose eyes." When Rogue hadn't complied after a second, she half-smiled. "No harm come t'you, chil. Mamàn be t'inkin' dat you stronger den anyt'ing she could do t'you wit' her gris-gris."  
  
Conceding, Rogue closed her eyes. She could hear wood tapping against glass, gentle snapping sounds, like dried flower stems being bent in half. The scents intensified, stinging her nose. Had her eyes been opened, she was sure they'd be watering.   
  
"In de heart…de key…is de 'magination," the woman said suddenly. "W'en people come t'me an' be wantin' a spell…or a curse…I ask dem t'picture w'at dey want. If you don' see it clear in yo' head, den de magick do not'ing t'make it come true. Understand?  
  
"Ah think so." Rogue felt a tug on her hair, like it was being picked up off her shoulder. "What's that?"  
  
She heard the soft snip of a scissors before the question was even completely out of her mouth. "Bit o' you for de bag," Naquin murmured. "Up t'you t'get some o' him." As she worked on whatever it was she was doing, she began to hum. It was a low, rich sound that soothed away Rogue's last lingering doubts. She felt her entire body relax, inch by inch, until she too swayed with the rhythm of the song.   
  
"See it in yo' head, chil," Nanquin intoned. "See w'at you want…"  
  
Rogue's breathing evened out. In the darkness of her mind, a picture began to form, starting with the bed they'd celibately shared for the past three nights. The white sheets were rumpled, and a breeze made the scarf-like pieces that hung from the high, wrought-iron frame dance. Her body materialized first, naked, spread, and flushed from head to toe. She watched herself throw her head back, chestnut and cream curls spreading out over the sheets.   
  
And then he appeared, as naked as she, settled between her legs. Where she was all curves, he was all muscle as he held himself up over her, thrusting slowly, tenderly. Her breath caught as she saw his lips lower to hers, taking her tongue as smoothly as he took her body.   
  
She heard him then, whispering words of French comfort and love, nearly drowned by her own hoarse moans of pleasure.   
  
"Ah love ya, Remy," Rogue whimpered, not even realizing she was speaking out loud.   
  
The picture disappeared with a snap of Naquin's fingers. When Rogue opened her eyes, she was embarrassed at the fine sheen of perspiration on her upper lip. The woman handed her a woven bag no bigger than a child's fist. "Put dis under de pillows after you add some o' his hair."   
  
She took it with trembling hands. "Ah don' understand. How can this…"  
  
"Believe, chil. In de world o' de saints an' de gods an' de dead, dere is no m'tant or human. Dere just be magick." Naquin nodded towards the door. "Go now."   
  
Rogue stood, unable to feel her knees, but clutching the bag tightly. When she reached the velvet curtain, the woman called out to her. "Dis work 'til de sun rise again. Don' be comin' back fo' anot'er."  
  
"But…" she began.  
  
"Go," the priestess ordered, her voice rumbling.   
  
She emerged back into the busy flow of Bourbon Street, shaken, but steady at the same time. The bag was coarse against her hands and smelled faintly of lavender and dried blood. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what else besides her hair was in it.   
  
And she still wasn't entirely convinced that it was going to work at all. What did she know about magick or voodoo? There was no guarantee that a hot visualization and a bag of trinkets would be able to overcome her mutation. Nothing else ever had, at least not sufficiently and conveniently enough to allow her the sort of prolonged, intimate contact that she wanted with Remy.   
  
But as she looked down at Nanquin's charm, hope coursed through her. Maybe, just by believing hard enough, it would happen. There was really only one way to find out.   
  
On the way back to the loft he'd rented for them, Rogue wondered…had she bothered to pack any lingerie?   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued  
  
A/N: All voodoo knowledge comes from the website, Voodoo Authentica. It is a real religion, it is not devil worship, and I hope I've accurately portrayed it here;) 


	2. We've got tonight

Disclaimer: The usual stuff, blah, blah, not mine, blah.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the initial feedback;) The places mentioned in the story are all real, and I hope I've done them justice, because I believe it would take a much better writer than I to truly capture their beauty and elegance in words.  
  
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Manumission  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Into this night I wander,   
  
it's morning that I dread.   
  
Another day of knowing  
  
the path I fear to tread.   
  
Oh into the sea of waking dreams,  
  
I follow without pride.  
  
Nothing stands between us here  
  
and I won't be denied.  
  
And I would be the one  
  
to hold you down,   
  
kiss you so hard.   
  
I'll take your breath away.  
  
And after I wipe away the tears,  
  
just close your eyes, dear.  
  
-Sarah McLachlan   
  
****  
  
He was running twenty minutes late and he'd spent the day with people who hated him. Remy LeBeau was not in a good mood. With the collar of his brown coat pulled up, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets and a slight scowl on his usually sociable face, he entered the Court of Two Sisters restaurant at nearly a half past seven.   
  
Had it not become Rogue's favorite place to eat in the city, he would have suggested having dinner somewhere else, someplace a little more relaxed and not quite so well-known. Every time he passed by the iron gate covered in soft, green ivy and caught a glimpse into the pressed white linen, sparkling crystal and polished silver world, Remy could remember digging through their dumpster as a child, searching for anything halfway edible. Anything to relieve the cold bite of hunger.   
  
The maitre 'd gave his coat a suspicious look, but quickly darted his gaze away when he caught sight of Remy's eyes. Red and black, they burned into the short man, a silent warning to not cross his path at that particular moment.   
  
"Do you have a reservation, sir?" the man stammered, rifling through his papers. "Or has your party already arrived?"  
  
"Dere a gal here wit' de mos' beautiful green eyes you ever seen?" Remy asked.  
  
"Oh yeah!" At the narrowing of the man's own demonic eyes, the maitre 'd paled. "I mean, yes. Yes. Follow me."   
  
Remy followed him through the elegant dining rooms and out into the courtyard, which gave the place its name. A fountain sat in the middle of the open air space, which wasn't entirely open air as a thick ceiling of ivy and vines hung over their heads. The man led him past the crowd of dinner guests and towards a secluded corner of the court.   
  
Instantly, his mood lifted. Rogue sat at a small table meant only for two, looking off to one side as she sipped a glass of water with lemon. Her hair was swept up into a loose knot on the top of her head, leaving tendrils of white to curl around her delicate face. She wore a dress he'd never seen before, black with thin straps leading down into a heart-shaped neckline that perfectly displayed the cleavage he thanked god for every time he looked at her. The dark color off-set her creamy skin, and made him want to…  
  
"Remy!" She turned her head to see them approaching, and there was no mistaking the flash of impatience in her emerald eyes. Rogue set down her water glass as he slid into the chair across from her and took the menu that the maitre 'd offered him.  
  
"Enjoy your meal," the man murmured, making damn sure not to even cast a single look in Rogue's direction.  
  
"Yer late," she reminded him.  
  
Remy reached for Rogue's black-gloved hand. "T'ings took longer t'wrap up today." He raised her fingers to his lips across the table. "Forgive dis t'ief?"  
  
Pink spread across her porcelain cheeks. "Ah guess so. But yer payin' for dinner."   
  
A waitress came by a moment later. Remy ordered for them both, champagne to start off with, and a variety of Creole specialties for the main courses. When the girl left, he gave Rogue an impish grin. "Were you missin' me today, chere?"   
  
She shrugged one shoulder in badly-faked indifference. "Ah went shoppin'. Didn' really have time to think 'bout ya, swamp rat."  
  
"Dat hurts." He put a hand over his heart. "Dat hurts deep."  
  
"Well…" Rogue recanted. "Ah suppose ya did pop into my mind every now an' then." She took a small sip of water. "Ah feel like Ah haven' even seen ya the whole time we've been here."  
  
She was trying very hard not show her own hurt, but it didn't stop a pang of guilt from hitting him square in the chest. He'd dragged her all the way to New Orleans on their one week of vacation time away from the X-Men, and then practically left her to fend for herself while he tried to settle Guild business. Surely she had to know that he'd have rather spent every moment so far with her rather than in an underground stronghold, surrounded by assassins and thieves who would have loved to see him entombed alive St. Louis Cemetery.   
  
"Je suis desole, chere," he apologized. "Gambit didn' mean t'be leavin' you all alone."   
  
"It's all right, sugah." She sat back in her chair as the waitress returned with a silver bucket that held a bottle of champagne and two long-stemmed glasses. Remy popped the cork and poured with agile hands and practiced ease. Rogue smiled. She didn't know a lot about his time on the streets, but he'd certainly transcended it. "What're we toastin'?"   
  
He raised his glass. "T'tonigh'. 'Cause dis Caj'n got everyt'ing righ' now, de greatest t'ing bein' de prettiest femme in de city sittin' across de table from him."   
  
Rogue's tongue darted out to wet her lips. "To tonigh'," she echoed softly. The champagne was cold and sharp and stung her throat with a thousand tiny bubbles. She couldn't stop thinking about the small, woven bag in her black clutch. If it worked at all, it wasn't going to work for too much longer. Tonight might be all they ever had together.   
  
"Somet'ing bot'ering you, chere?" Remy asked, setting down his glass.   
  
She immediately shook her head. "No. Ah just…the heat today. Took a lot outta me. That's all." It wasn't clear whether he believed her or not, but he let it go. "How much longer 'til all the Guild stuff is settled, do ya think?"  
  
"Anot'er day. Maybe two." He winked at her over the centerpiece of fresh flowers and candles. "You gettin' tired o' de city?"  
  
"No way," Rogue replied, fervently. "Ah love it here, Remy. Ah really do." She tucked her hands into her lap, twisting her napkin. "But Ah think Ah'd like it even better…if Ah was with ya."   
  
Remy considered this for a second. "Den tomorrow…I tell de Guild t'fuck off."  
  
Her eyes widened slightly, then relaxed into doubt. "Ah'd 'magine that's not such a good idea, sugah."   
  
"Let dis t'ief worry 'bout de ot'er t'ieves."   
  
Rogue gaze darted back and forth between his eyes, feeling them scorching over her flesh, wanting them to go even further. On their first night in the city, his burning stare had woken her up from a fitful sleep. He been watching her as she slept, and when she accused him of it, he made no apologies.   
  
"If all dis Ca'jun ever get t'do is look at you, den he gonna look, chere," he'd told her.  
  
Even now, her heart quickened at the memory. The two of them in bed, sleeping side by side…the two of them in bed, naked and joined. Her visualization…she couldn't shake it. She wanted it to come true, wanted to believe that the charm in her purse would make it happen. So much so that as soon as she'd returned to their room to change for dinner, she'd added a bit of his hair to the bag that she got from his comb.   
  
Rogue cleared her throat and looked down at the delicate platinum watch on her wrist, a Christmas present from him the year before. It was coming up on eight. Less than twelve hours to go before the sun rose again.   
  
She looked back up. "Ah don' suppose we can get all this to go, can we?"  
  
Remy frowned, puzzled. "Why we do dat, chere?"  
  
"Ah…" Rogue took a breath. "There's somethin'…" She laughed at herself. "It's a really long story, sugah, but…Ah think Ah might've found a way for us to…" Unconsciously, Rogue lowered her voice. "…be together. Tonigh'."   
  
The look on his face was priceless. Confusion, surprise, excitement, doubt, all rolled in one. He blinked once, then twice. "I don' understand. How…?"  
  
"Ah told ya, long story."  
  
"Gambit suddenly be likin' long stories, petit."  
  
Rogue picked up her purse from the floor, but didn't open it. There was no telling how Remy would react to a voodoo charm, considering his upbringing. He could either dismiss it totally, or react to it as he might to a poisonous snake in his bathtub. "Jus'…trust me." She paused. "Ah'll never hurt ya again, Remy. Ah swear."   
  
He blinked again and set his napkin aside on the table. "Let me get de check," he said in the strangest voice. "Den…" He trailed off. "Den w'at, chere?"  
  
"Then…" Rogue bit the inside of her cheek. "Let's go to bed."   
  
****  
  
It started to drizzle as they walked from the restaurant to their room that overlooked the entire Vieux Carre. Remy took off his coat and draped it over Rogue's shoulders.   
  
"Thanks, sugah," she said, tugging the material up over her head as to protect her hair from the rain. A moment passed in complete silence. "Tell me what yer thinkin'?"  
  
She could hear him sigh. "Chere…dere don' be words t'describe w'at I'm t'inking. Least not'ing dat could be said in front o' bébés."   
  
"Ah don' see any babies here."  
  
Remy relented after another second. "Gambit t'inking…if dis be true…dere's not'ing he done in dis life o' his t'deserve w'at you be wantin' t'give him."   
  
"Ah don' suppose lovin' me an' wantin' me when anyone else would've given up long ago counts?" she snapped.   
  
They stopped in front of the wrought-iron gate that led into the courtyard of the building they'd been staying in. He wanted to grasp her shoulders, but he was lacking gloves and she was lacking sleeves. All he could do was take the one hand she wasn't using to keep his coat over her head. "Tell me how, chere. W'at happened today t'make you t'ink we can make love tonigh'?   
  
"Ah told ya to trust me."  
  
"Trustin' not de probl'm dis time. Gambit jus' need t'know."   
  
Rogue gestured to the gate. "Can we get off the street first, sugah?"  
  
He gave in, again, with a sigh and a shake of cinnamon-colored head. The courtyard, a much smaller version of the one they'd just come from, bloomed over with the colors of spring, turned a shade darker in the night air, and dripped with water from the rain. They walked up the outdoor stairs and entered the studio apartment. Remy went to flip the light on, but Rogue shook her head as she draped his coat over a high-backed chair. "Leave 'em off; there's enough ligh' from the street."   
  
With that, she walked straight to the massive bed at the center of the room and sat on the edge of it. "If Ah tell ya…Ah need to know yer not gonna laugh at me. Ah didn' seek this out. It just kinda…happened."  
  
"Do I look like I be laughin' anytime soon, chere?"   
  
She took a breath and opened her purse. Avoiding his eyes, she pulled out the little charm bag and held it up. When she finally looked at him, she couldn't help but notice how his jaw had dropped several inches. "What's wrong?"   
  
"Don' you know w'at dat is?" he asked. "Dat's…gris-gris. Voodoo." Remy shook his head. "Non, chere…non. We don' mess wit' dat."   
  
"Ya don' know, Remy. The woman…she knew stuff…'bout me. 'Bout us." Rogue felt her voice trembling, and tried to keep it even and calm. "Ah think…Ah think it migh' work."  
  
He walked to the bed and kneeled in front of her. "At w'at cost, petit?" Giving the bag a wary look, he continued, "Dose charms an' curses…de always come wit' a price t'pay. Dey don' make somet'ing good out o' not'ing." Remy reached up to touch her face, but stopped before he made contact. His hand dropped. "Gambit don' want you payin' de price."   
  
"Ah already know the price," Rogue said, blinking back tears. "Ah only get this one nigh' with ya…an' when the sun comes up, that's it. It don' work no more." One tear made it through and slipped down her cheek. "Ah'm willing to pay it, Remy. Ah'm willin' to spend the rest o' my life rememberin'…if Ah just get to show ya…"   
  
"Show me w'at, chere?" he prompted her a second later.   
  
She lifted her head, her eyes wet. "How much Ah love ya."  
  
"Mon ange…" Remy didn't think he could have loved her more in that moment. The usually invincible, strong-willed woman warrior had opened up a piece of her heart to him, and now sat in front of him, trembling with the fear that he might turn away.   
  
He wasn't going to. Ever. After taking a silent breath, Remy reached back up, pausing again as his fingers skimmed the air over her flawless cheek. Steeling himself for whatever might happen, he let his fingers make contact. He touched her.   
  
Rogue couldn't hold back a little gasp when his palm cupped her cheek. Her first, base instinct was to jerk away. But he wouldn't let her. He gripped her wrist with his other hand and held her in place. A moment passed…and then another…and another. And nothing happened.   
  
There was no buzz of energy, no panic on his face, no thoughts flooded into her mind. All she could feel was the gentle calluses on his fingers, the texture of his skin, the heat that pooled at the center of her body.   
  
"Remy," she whispered. "Oh god…it works…"  
  
His index finger moved, gliding up and down her cheek, caressing her. "I always t'ought you'd be soft, chere." He swallowed. "I was righ'."   
  
It was Rogue who made the first move, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his in a hasty, but chaste kiss. He broke it all too soon for either of their liking. But he was already getting worked up, and there were things he had to be certain of first. Her eyes were green pools he could drown in; he blinked to regain his focus. "Dis be w'at you want?"  
  
She nodded, and before she forgot, slipped the charm bag underneath the white eyelet covered pillows. "Ya want it, too…don'tcha?   
  
He kissed away the frown that crossed her expression. "Don' you be doubtin' dat, chere. Dere's people we know who t'ink dat dis is all dis Caj'n wants."   
  
"But that's not true," Rogue said, running her fingers through his rain-damp hair. "Ah won' pretend to know everythin' 'bout ya…but Ah know ya better than that."   
  
"Ya know Gambit better den he know himself, sometimes." Remy wiped his clammy hands on his pants, still kneeling, but fighting to maintain his balance. He could smell her light perfume, see the deep cleft between her breasts, and now knowing that he could do what he'd wanted to at the restaurant, namely burying his face between them, it was hard to keep thinking straight. "If dere be anytime you don' want t'go on…we stop, chere. Dat's my promise." She nodded. "Dis be serious," he continued. "Your…first time…it shouldn' be messed up 'cause o' an impatient t'ief…who's wanted you so long." Remy closed his eyes. "So long, chere."   
  
"Ah know," Rogue said, nibbling on her lower lip. "Me too, sugah." She kissed each of his eyelids, and then his mouth, so softly and sweetly. "There ain' no one else in this world who Ah wanna have this nigh' with." She stood up, putting him at eye level with the apex of her thighs, so tantalizingly hidden behind flimsy black material. "Ah want ya."  
  
He looked up the length of her body, over the swell of her breasts and into her bottomless eyes. Smooth as silk, he stood up until she had to look up to see him. "I still don' like de way dis had t'come 'bout," Remy said, his voice throbbing with desire. "But I can touch you for tonigh'…" As if to demonstrate, he kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue. Her mouth was hot and satiny wet. He wanted hours to taste her, but he gently pulled away after only a minute. "It won' ever been enough. But it be somet'ing, oui?"  
  
"Yeah." Her head was still spinning from the delicious feeling of his tongue loving hers. Rogue crossed her arms over her chest, hooking her fingers around the thin straps of her dress. Inch by inch, she eased them off her shoulders, and peeled the dress down to her slender waist, revealing the strapless black lace bra she'd purchased that afternoon after leaving the voodoo shop.   
  
His mouth was dry. Desperate, he tried to swallow back the lump that welled up in his throat.   
  
"Ah'm not afraid, Remy," she told him. The dress pooled around her feet, baring the bra's matching panties. "But Ah don' wanna think 'bout anythin' but lovin' ya for the rest o' the nigh'."   
  
"Anot'her promise, chere." Remy slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her body into perfect alignment against his. "An' I intend t'keep it."  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	3. End of the innocence

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me. I just play around with them.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for the sweet feedback. It took me awhile to write this, balancing what I wanted to write with what I could get away with on this site. I feel that there's nothing in this chapter that wouldn't be perfectly acceptable in an R-rated movie these days, and isn't that the rating system we're going by? If, however, you don't like this sort of thing, feel free to skip this chapter and wait for the next. Really, you won't offend me;) Thanks!!  
  
****  
  
Unexpected  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
He touched her with a thief's hands, delicate enough to pick the most complicated lock, but tough enough to repel off the side of a building. It was funny, she thought as he laid her down onto the bed, how he didn't immediately go the most obvious routes in his path of exploration. In fact, she was still clad in the matching scraps of black lace, and he'd only briefly stroked her in the places they covered.   
  
Instead, Remy's hands found sensitive areas she hadn't even realized were such. He smoothed his fingers up the flesh of her inner arms, across her ribs, over the flat plain of her belly and down her outer thighs and calves. She lay prone beside him, her breath heavy, catching every few seconds when he discovered a new spot. Her collarbone, her knees, her feet…his touch was hypnotizing. And, she feared, addicting.   
  
He had to touch her, had to memorize every inch of flesh before it was too late. Remy had never been a hasty lover, but he had to force himself to go slow, to cherish each second, but even more important than that, to make her comfortable, to make it wonderful for her. If her muted gasps and shivers were any indication, he was succeeding so far.   
  
She was so soft, and so sensitive after years denied any such contact. He felt like he was opening up a whole new world for her, but also for himself. Had he ever been so solely focused on his partner's pleasure before? Just as he wasn't hasty, he'd never been greedy, but he couldn't remember being with any other woman before Rogue, and caring this much about what they were feeling, not even his own, young wife.   
  
But Belladonna hadn't been innocent on the night of their joining; in so many ways, Rogue was more mature, more experienced and more powerful than his former love. But she had one gift to give that no other woman had ever saved for him. And he wasn't about to take it for granted by pushing too hard, going too fast, frightening her with aroused he was.   
  
"Chere," he whispered, her foot between his hands. He massaged it with strong thumbs, marveling over the perfect arch and the gleam of red paint on each nail. "W'en dis Caj'n first meet you, he t'ink he be blessed if you be in his life only for a day." Remy kissed her ankle. "But you been here so long now…" His mouth found the inside of her knee. "…he can't 'magine his life wit'out you."   
  
Rogue plunged a hand into his hair when he reached her inner thigh. His breath was hot against the lace that covered her. His fingers sought the tiny straps holding it up on her hips, but she tugged on his thick locks. "Remy…Ah wanna touch ya."   
  
He slid up her body, realizing that in his quest to be selfless and give her touching, he'd been selfish in not letting her touch. She deserved both halves of what she'd been so long denied. As he looked down into her eyes, smoky green with the erotic haze that had settled over them, Remy nodded. "Oui, chere." He kissed her softly, letting her take the lead. Her tongue darted into his mouth, silky and insistent. As the kiss grew deeper, he half-rolled, half-let her push him over until he was lying on his back.   
  
She attacked his shirt buttons first, never letting her lips leave his as she pushed each through its eyehole until a long strip of his exquisitely muscled chest lay exposed. He wanted to laugh as she struggled to un-tuck the shirt from his black pants, but she was still kissing him, her forehead scrunched up in adorable effort as she tugged at the stubborn cotton.   
  
Finally, she ripped it free and immediately her hands slid between the shirt and his chest. Remy bucked when her fingernails caught his nipples, scratching with innocent abandon. She drew back. "Ah'm sorry! Did Ah hurt ya?"   
  
All he could do at first was shake his head. After clearing his head, he let his hands settle on her waist, urging her up. When they were both sitting in a tangle of legs on the bed, Remy stripped off his shirt the rest of the way. "Dat's better," he said, a twinkle in his eye. Laying back down, he tucked his hands underneath the back of his head. "Go on, chere."   
  
She flashed him a wry smile, but it was impossible to chastise him when his tanned, toned torso was displayed in front of her. Rogue licked her lower lip, nervous for a split second. What was she supposed to do? What would make him feel good?   
  
As if reading her mind, or at least picking up on her emotions, he lifted his head and told her as assuredly as possible, "Men, amour, be very easy t'please. Dere's almos' not'ing you could do dat wouldn' feel good."   
  
Straddling his hips, Rogue propped her fists up on her own. "Ah'm gonna take ya up on that, sugah."  
  
"T'ank de merciful god above…" he said just under his breath. It was the last coherent thought he had as she leaned down and kissed his neck, running her tongue along his Adam's apple and down the center of his chest.   
  
When she reached the dark trail of hair that led down from his navel, Remy decided that it was better to be selfish than be tortured to death. Her kisses had progressed into nibbles and licks; she picked up instantly on what was pleasurable, and walked the fine line of pain so well that he wanted to grab her shoulders and plunge into her without finesse.   
  
"Tell me, chere," he breathed as he gently hauled her up on his level again. "Tell me if dere anyt'ing I do dat you don' like…"  
  
She nodded, closing her eyes as their mouths met again. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he flipped their positions once more. Everything seemed to happen in an instant. His fingers unhooked her bra with the dexterity that could be expected of the best thief in the world. She barely even felt it until suddenly her breasts were pressed against the warmth of his chest. His hands found them without warning, molding and reshaping until neither of them could take it anymore, and he dipped his head to take each rosy crest into his mouth.   
  
Her nails dug into his upper back, and suddenly the discomfort of still wearing his pants became equally unbearable. Remy released her nipple with a soft sucking sound and took her hands in his, entwining their fingers. He urged her to pull at his belt, helping her unfasten the buckle and push down the zipper. Rogue glanced down between their bodies; all she could see was black underneath black with a grey elastic band, all covering the hardness she'd felt pressing into her thigh only seconds earlier. He didn't need to guide her to touch it; she'd been curious for years. Not about the male body…god knew that if you hung around the X-Men in combat long enough you were bound to see more of your teammates than you probably wanted to…but about his body specifically. There were stories centered around him, gossip and assumptions that circulated throughout the mansion which she couldn't help but wonder about. And now, as she hooked her hands around his pants and shorts and pulled with numb fingers, speculation became knowledge. And the rumors…they underestimated him.   
  
Remy kicked off his pants, and now the only thing that separated them was the tiny triangle of lace that covered the apex of her thighs.   
  
"Take 'em off, sugah," she told him softly, but without hesitation.   
  
He trailed a hand down her side. Watching her eyes, he let the full length of his palm slide underneath the fabric and through her thatch of curls, cupping her sex. Her eyes grew wide. "Wet like silk," Remy whispered.   
  
She heard the fabric tear, and momentarily lamented the wasted money, but that was before she felt him nudging her legs apart. The ruined underwear had been worth every single penny.  
  
On the brink of everything they'd both wanted for years, Remy stopped cold. "Chere…"  
  
Rogue looked up into the worried, red centers of his eyes. "It's okay," she told him. "Takin' birth control's jus' kinda routine for us gals on the team, even if some of us don' really…" She gasped when he gently bit into the crook of her neck. "…need it. Remy…don' stop again…or Ah really will kill ya."  
  
"Don' want t'be hurtin' you," he murmured.   
  
"Ya won't," she said as he gently surged into her. Her mouth fell open for a second, before she bit into her lip. It was more pressure than pain, the feeling of being stretched and plundered. She closed her eyes, and held onto his body, trying to relax.   
  
He couldn't think for several minutes, and it amazed him that his body kept going without any higher brain functions commanding it. Fortunately, because he could feel how tense she was beneath him, his baser instincts stayed subdued, and he advanced into her with smooth, slow ease. When he couldn't go any further, he focused and looked down at her.   
  
Tears leaked down her cheeks from her tightly shut eyes. Panic hit him square in the chest. "Rogue," Remy said. "W'at's de matter?! It hurt…too much, chere? Gambit go too fast…"   
  
He cursed himself and prepared to back off, but she shook her head. "No…no, sugah." Her wet lashes lifted and at the very centers of her emerald irises, he didn't see pain, but pure joy. "Ah'm fine, Remy. Ah just…Ah've never really felt part o' anythin' before. Not even the X-Men." She kissed his lips, brushing them with her tears. "But Ah'm part o' ya now. An' yer part o' me. An' Ah…" A sob caught in the back of her throat. "Ah don' wanna lose this."   
  
There wasn't anything he could say to make reality fade away, even for that moment. They were going to lose what they had right then. But not, he thought, for another ten or eleven hours.   
  
Holding himself up with his elbows, he brushed stray strands of hair off her face. "Den…we gonna make dis nigh' imposs'ble t'forget. Oui?"   
  
Rogue smiled and nodded. He was so solid between her thighs, but perfectly so, like they'd been designed to be joined with each other. The pressure was letting up, and when he moved, a hot spike of pleasure hit her. "Yeah," she gasped. "Ah love ya, sugah."  
  
He didn't reply until much later, when she was resting in the warm circle of his arms and the breeze from the open windows was drying their tangled, perspiring bodies. Remy pulled her back even tighter against his chest and held onto her fiercely. "Je t'aime, chere. Por toujours."   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	4. Moonlight shadow

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. I repeat. The characters contained within do not belong to me.  
  
Author's Notes: More thanks. I'm glad I got the right blend of Tobasco sauce in the last chapter;) I hope you keep enjoying!   
  
****  
  
Manumission  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
I can feel the emptiness inside me   
  
Fade and disappear   
  
There's a feeling of contentment   
  
Now that you are here   
  
I feel satisfied   
  
I belong inside   
  
Your velvet heaven   
  
Did I need to sell my soul for pleasure like this   
  
Did I have to lose control to treasure your kiss   
  
Did I need to place my heart in the palm of your hand   
  
Before I could even start to understand   
  
It's only when I lose myself in someone else   
  
That I find myself   
  
I find myself   
  
-Depeche Mode  
  
****  
  
"Ah don' have any basis for comparison, sugah…but Ah think yer really good at this."   
  
Remy chuckled and looked over at the woman lying on her back next to him amidst the hopelessly wrinkled sheets. "You pick up fast yourself, chere."  
  
"Jus' makin' up for lost time." She flipped over onto her bare stomach and kissed the center of his chest. "Ah love kissin' ya. Yer so warm."   
  
"Dat's 'cause you been puttin' dis Caj'n t'rough his favorite kind o' exercise for de past hour."  
  
Rogue nipped playfully at his navel. "Wanna make that another hour, sugah?"   
  
"Mon Dieu above…I went an' created a monster." His smile was sated and wide. "Give Gambit jus' a minute. Dere be no cause t'rush, chere."   
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, her mood plummeted. "But there is, Remy. We gotta rush. It's…" She threw a glance at the clock. "Almost midnight."   
  
He combed his fingers through her tousled curls, and urged her up to meet his mouth. In between kisses, he told her, "I intend t'be wit' you 'til de last second we get, chere. But half o' bein' wit' someone be w'at we got righ' here. Jus' bein'." Remy ran his hands down her smooth sides to cup her bottom. "Jus' touchin'."   
  
"An' Ah'm all for that," she assured him, closing her eyes at the sensations he elicited. "Ah jus' don' wanna waste a second of what we got." Rogue reached behind and took his hands. Crawling over his body, she pinned his arms above his head. The voodoo charm hadn't negated her strength; he found himself pretty much at her mercy, not that he was about to start complaining.   
  
She kissed him, hard and hot, and immediately he felt the familiar beginnings of arousal. Mutant powers…they weren't always a curse. Any ordinary man would have withered away when Rogue took his sex in her hand; Remy just found the patch of skin behind her ear that drove her crazy and blew on it. "You be playin' dirty, chere…Gambit play dirty back."   
  
"Ah'll show ya dirty, swamp rat." As she worked him over, Rogue lowered her head and clamped her teeth around one brown, flat nipple. Hearing him hiss in pleasure was reward enough. "Now shut up, an' let me love ya."   
  
"Dat's my delicate magnolia," Remy laughed, lifting his head to watch as she trailed her mouth down to where her hand stroked.   
  
Things were just getting interesting when a loud rumble broke through the haze of their lovemaking. One hand across her flat belly, Rogue sat up. Still underneath her, Remy struggled to do the same. "Chere?"  
  
She bit her lower lip, still rosy and full from his kisses. "Ah think my stomach's tryin' to tell me…we never ate dinner."   
  
He laughed again, flopping back down onto the bed. "No, dat we didn'." Remy looked up at her, his eyes sparkling. "My stomach tell me de same t'ing."  
  
"Ah guess there's gotta be a pizza place still open," Rogue mused, climbing off of him. "Do we got a phonebook 'round here?"   
  
Naked, Remy followed her across the room and into the little attached kitchenette. "Dere's a better idea den dat." He grabbed her around the waist from behind; his arms crossed her chest, each hand cupping a pert breast as he kissed the nape of her neck. "Let's go out, chere."   
  
Her knees weakened at his touch, but she managed to say, "Where do ya plan on goin', sugah? Ain' no place good open this late."   
  
"Au contraire," Remy chuckled. He released her with a final kiss to her bare shoulder. "Get dressed. Gambit show you w'at else we do in dis city after de sun go down."  
  
****  
  
The Café Du Monde had been a staple of his youth. With one pocket-picked, he'd been able to afford an order of beignets and often even a cup of chicory coffee, which he preferred, even as a boy of eight, to milk. The open-air restaurant had been serving the same things for over a hundred years by then, and even now, as he and Rogue approached Decatur Street, he could tell that it hadn't changed a bit from the place he remembered.   
  
"Open every day, chere, 'cepting Christmas. All day, every day." They seated themselves at a small table looking out over the dark waters of the mouth of the Mississippi. "Dere not a number high enough t'count how many times I been here."   
  
His voice sounded almost wistful, something she'd never heard on the rare occasions when he would talk about his youth. "Always at nigh'?" she asked, winking.   
  
"Sometimes…it be better t'hide in a lit-up place den in de darkest alley," Remy replied. When a waitress noticed them, he called her over. "We get two orders," he told the young girl. "Wit' café au lait for de lady, an' coffee for me."   
  
"Comin' right up."  
  
When the waitress bounced away, Rogue shook her head at him. "Orderin' for me again. Ah feel like a kept woman."   
  
"Not kept, chere." He reached for her hand, and Rogue felt just a little bit easier about letting him take it, knowing that she's stuck Naquin's charm in her purse before they left. Just in case. "Treasured."  
  
"So smooth," she commended him. Embers smoldered in the centers of his eyes. Rogue found herself looking away. He put too much love into that look, made her feel too wanted. If she stared too long, she'd either have to grab him and have at it on the table, or just burn to death. "Tell me one other happy memory ya have 'bout yer childhood."   
  
He drew away, leaning back against his chair with casual indifference. "If we playin' show an' tell…you do de same, chere."  
  
"All right," she conceded.   
  
After a moment of thought, Remy leaned forward on his elbows and picked up a packet of sugar from the container between them, rolling it between his fingers like he did a card he was preparing to charge. "One time, during de Mardi Gras parades, de Guild got…well, we jus' say a nice catch o' de tourists money." She rolled her eyes, and he continued, "Dere was ano'ter boy 'bout my age…fifteen at de time dis happened. Me an' Jacques, we hit de streets, not for more, but jus' t'take in de party. Lassez les temps bons rule." He stared at the little sugar packet. "Tonigh' we dance, tomorrow we fast. But Gambit did a bit more den dancin' dat nigh'."   
  
Her silence prompted him to go on. "Dere were femmes all over….girls no more older den us. Everybody drinks, chere. Don' matter how old. Jacques found us a pair, still sober enough t'be fun. We took dem t'de best hide-out we knew an'…" Remy trailed off, and gave her a half-smile. "Dere's a first time for everyt'ing, oui?"  
  
The story didn't make her mad, only the fact that for an instant, she was insanely jealous of that nameless, faceless, drunken teenage girl who'd gotten to him first. "That's it, sugah? That's yer best memory??"   
  
"Won' dis nigh' be yours?"   
  
If the waitress hadn't come by with their food, she might have thrown something at him. As it was, the scent of chicory and freshly fried donuts crept into her senses, making her forget everything but her hunger. Rogue glared at him as she grabbed a beignet and took a huge bite. "Yesuhjerswamra."   
  
"Oui," he replied as if he'd understood her perfectly. "Gambit can be de wors' kind o' jerk. But…" Remy reached out and used his thumb to wipe powdered sugar off her lower lip. "Dat's only his best memory from de childhood. Tonigh' go down as his best memory ever."  
  
She swallowed as a hot rush of satisfaction swept over her whole body. "All 'bout the sex," she mumbled, sipping her half-milk, half-coffee and successfully burning her tongue.   
  
Remy shrugged and chewed. "Your turn, chere."  
  
"Best memory from my childhood." Rogue took another sip. "The day Ah left it behind." He gave her a look, and she went on, "Seriously. Ah didn' like being a kid. Didn' have any control over who took care o' me, or how they did it. Mystique did her best…I guess…but it wasn' like she baked me cookies every day or came to see me in the school play. Actually, that's not her fault, 'cause Ah never stayed in school long enough to get cast in any plays."  
  
He chuckled, and nodded his agreement. "De Guild taught me everyt'ing I ever needed t'know. I sometimes t'ink, t'ough, dat if I had t'do it all over again, I would go t'school. Dere's a lot o' t'ings dis t'ief don' know 'bout dat he'd like to."  
  
"Ah'd only go to school if Ah could be livin' at the mansion at the same time. That's the only place Ah've ever felt safe." Rogue played with her beignet. "'Course…that's 'til Ah found myself in bed with ya."   
  
Remy took her hand again, this time raising her fingers to his lips. He sucked one sugary digit into his mouth, using his tongue to clean away every trace of sweetness. Rogue watched with hooded eyes as he repeated the process until every finger was sugar-free. "Eat up, chere. De don' taste good cold, an' if I don' get you back t'dat bed soon…"   
  
She nodded and picked up her donut with trembling fingers, while he drained his coffee. The arousing combination of food and sex surprised her. "Sheesh…now Ah know why Jean an' Scott never stick 'round for a whole meal."   
  
****  
  
They ran through the Vieux Carre, splashing through puddles left by the rain, laughing and kissing until they reached their private little courtyard. Once they were on the other side of the gate, Remy decided he'd waited for her too long. Pushing her up against the ivy-covered wall, he used one hand to urge her legs apart, knowing full well that she'd neglected to put anything on underneath her skirt when they went out. The other hand tore at his belt buckle and zipper.   
  
Rogue managed to keep her purse on her shoulder even when his hot girth slammed into her. Throwing her head back, she wrapped one leg around his thigh, urging him even further and harder. He complied, grasping her soft hips underneath her skirt as he thrust. Remy sucked at her neck, his slight stubble scratching her, but somehow making it even better.   
  
She opened her eyes and looked up through the overhanging willow tree. The clouds had cleared and the moon had come out to bathe the city in a celestial glow. How many people, she wondered, would ever get to make love with their soul's mate, in the middle of the French Quarter, by the light of a full moon? How lucky was she to be one of them?   
  
The explosion came minutes later, and all they could do was hold onto each other as their breath evened out. It was after one in the morning, and dawn wasn't that far away.  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	5. Say goodnight, not goodbye

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.   
  
Author's Notes: More story. It's been a really slow day at work, so I've had lots of good writing time. Thanks for all the feedback, and for putting up with this Antarctica-free alternate universe;)   
  
****  
  
Manumission  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
He watched her as she slept, as he had on that first miserably hot night they'd spent in the city. On the opposite side of the big bed, so close, but so far away from him, she'd cried, quietly, softly, obviously never intending him to notice. But he had. Because he'd felt the same way.   
  
That night, however, Remy was able to run his fingers across her smooth skin as she dozed after their latest lovemaking. He delighted in seeing her smile in her sleep. When she shifted, the sheet that she'd drawn up around her breasts slipped down, offering him a view he'd memorized over the past hours.   
  
His hand slid down to one full, perfect mound, and he cupped it lovingly, his thumb gently agitating the rosy nipple. Satin, he thought. Satin that tasted like fresh peaches and cream.   
  
Rogue's eyes slowly opened, emerald green peeking out from behind her long lashes. "What time is it?" she whispered.   
  
"After five in de mornin'," he replied just as softly. "W'at you dreamin' bout, chere?"  
  
"What Ah always do." She took his hand and kissed the center of his palm. "An' ya know yer it." Rogue grasped his hand harder, squeezing her eyes shut in agony. "We're runnin' outta time!"  
  
"Shh…" Remy moved closer to her in order to wrap his arms around her bare, slender shoulders. "Take it easy, chere. We still got time." He kissed her hair. "We're gonna be jus' fine."  
  
Her nose got squashed against the hard muscles of his chest, but she didn't care. He smelled like sex and aftershave, a surprisingly appealing combination. She clung to him, pressing her lips to his hot skin as he held her. "Promise me, Remy."  
  
"We come back from worse t'ings de a nigh' o' great sex," he laughed, a valiant attempt to lighten the mood.   
  
"More than that," Rogue mumbled. She tilted her chin up to see his face. "Righ'? It was more than that."  
  
Remy kissed her; even if she were allowed to kiss him every day for a hundred years, she knew she could never get tired of the feeling. "'Course it was, chere."  
  
"It was magic."   
  
He rolled onto his back and pulled her along with him to lie on his chest. "Dis city…it be all 'bout magic." She shivered as he traced patterns on her back with the very tips of his fingers. "We be 'bout magic, too."   
  
"What're we gonna do, Remy?" Rogue asked a moment later. His heart beat steadily underneath her ear. "How're we supposed to go back to jus' bein'…what were we 'fore this?"   
  
"Gambit been t'inking you his femme," he replied. "But he know you don' like dat."  
  
She sniffed, indignant. "That's some o' my momma comin' through there. She'd skin me alive if Ah let some man call me his." Rogue lifted her head. "But Ah don' got a big, ol' stick up my butt like she does, so yeah…Ah'm yers. Jus' don' forget, swamp rat…yer mine, too."   
  
"Never been any question 'bout dat."   
  
Rogue settled back against him. His legs entwined with hers, hairy and sinewy wrapped around smooth and shapely. "Don' forget," she repeated, almost to herself.   
  
"Dere no way I could," Remy answered. He looked down at her; she molded so perfectly against his body, curves and angles disappearing into each other, merging as they'd merged so many times that night. How could he ever forget? The images had been burned into his brain. When he was old and crippled and couldn't remember his own name, he'd still be able to remember what she looked like the throes of orgasm, her head thrown back, hair flying, teeth digging into her lip…what she tasted like, hot sugar and spice…how she cried out his name, begging and commanding at the same time. He couldn't forget. He wouldn't forget.   
  
To ensure this, he drew her up for another kiss, losing himself in the heat of her mouth once more. "One more time, chere," he breathed. His hands stroked her, pleading. "Jus' one more time…"  
  
Rogue nodded as she kissed him back, shifting until she could feel his newly-roused flesh against the center of her body. "Come into me, sugah."   
  
A mingled cry of pleasure echoed throughout the room. Remy looked up at the woman riding his body. Her hair, tangled beyond the help of any comb, tumbled over her breasts; she was every goddess, the Madonna and the whore, the princess in the tower and the sorceress in the dungeon. When she opened her eyes and looked down at him, he was pierced through, stunned out of his very breath.   
  
She paused, and ran her hands over his chest. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Not'ing," he managed to reply. "I jus'…I love you, Rogue."   
  
A tear trickled down her cheek, catching the weak light and shining. Seconds later, her back arched as the first wave of pleasure hit her. Remy took the opportunity to sit up, pulling her against his chest. They sat, joined, and he kissed her throat, her collar, her shoulders until she was ready to go on.   
  
Rogue met his stare. He was perfectly still within in her, waiting. "More, sugah," she whispered.   
  
He pitched forward, covering her body with his and she found herself back in the very first position in which they'd come together. She licked her lip and hooked her legs around his lower back.   
  
Almost there, Remy kissed her fiercely. His lips fell from hers and his forehead dropped to her shoulder as he came, losing himself within her depths. "Ah love ya, too," she told him, running her fingers through his hair. Sated and completely content to let him stay inside of her forever, Rogue turned her head towards the windows. And immediately, her entire body felt cold.   
  
There was a light in the east, heralding the sun's daily appearance. She stared at it until she began to tremble.   
  
Remy pulled himself together and looked down at his lover. "W'at, chere?" He followed her gaze and his heart missed a few beats. Pinks and oranges appeared in the sky, bleeding into the lingering night air.   
  
She turned her watery gaze back up to him. "Ah can't lose ya!" Rogue cried. She shook her head against the sheets, struggling not against him, but against their very cruel fate. "Ah was wrong. This is too much…too big a price to pay!! Ah can't…Remy, please!" Her hands cupped his face. "We didn' get enough time!"  
  
"Not enough be better den not'ing at all, chere," he gently reminded her. His own hands found her face, holding her as she held him. "Now...we let go. An' we go on rememberin' dis…" He choked on the words. "…was our nigh'. Dere weren't no one else in dis damn city but de two o' us."  
  
Rogue tried to let his words relax her. But she was seconds away from losing his touch forever. And all she could do was cry. "Ah won' forget, Remy," she sobbed into his strong shoulder.   
  
"Never," he whispered back. "Never."   
  
He stayed within her until the pinks turned to reds and yellows. Just before dawn, he withdrew and wrapped her up in the sheets. When the sun peeked up over the French Quarter, he was still holding her, protected by soft, white cotton.   
  
His lips found hers as the first rays hit them and after only a second, he felt it. The delirious sensation of having his soul sucked away from him. Rogue turned her head, breaking the kiss before she could do him any real harm.   
  
Eventually, the harsh glare of the sun became too much. She stood first, trailing the sheets as she started towards the bathroom. "Ah'll just be a second, sugah." Her voice was flat. Lifeless. Nothing seemed to remain of the woman who'd made love to him all night. "Ah don' want ya to be late for yer meetin's."   
  
She disappeared into the bathroom and he balled up his fist. The Guild. Like he gave a damn about alliances anymore. The only alliance he cared about was his relationship with her. Once again, they teetered on the edge, ready to plummet into nothingness. He fell back into the sheets, cursing her, himself, their mutations, the damn bag of charms that had given them so much, and the sun that had taken it away.   
  
Their scent was all around him, forever imprinted on the sheets. He wrestled his way out of them, and went in search of his clothes. He could hear the water running in the shower, and it was all he could do to stop himself from joining her in it.  
  
Tante Mattie had always told him to stay away from voodoo. Now, he realized why.   
  
****  
  
Tired, sore, and paralyzed with loss, Rogue somehow managed to drag herself out of the shower after he left on his daily round of meetings. She had to get out, had to get away from all the memories. They were like a fresh wound, painful and raw. She was afraid that the wound might never heal. Maybe it would be better if she could forget. How long could she live with the memories before they drove her insane? His one ticklish spot, his hair against her inner thigh, his tongue dipping into her wetness, the jerk of his sex in her hand, the salt of his essence, her name groaned in pleasure…  
  
She grabbed her purse and ran. It was early, but the Quarter was wide awake, ready to start a new day. Children getting ready for school, husbands and wives kissing each other goodbye, looking forward to later when they could be alone again. She hated them, and her hate was heavy in her stomach.   
  
Once again, Rogue existed outside of the world. She'd been allowed one night's glimpse into what everyone else had…and she wanted it back.   
  
The door was still set back from the rest of the sidewalk, still painted black. Taking a breath, she went to push it open. But it didn't budge.   
  
She tried again, and then a third time, contemplating a fourth and a fifth until she realized it was hopeless. A sign just to the left of the door announced an official foreclosure on the building, as well a seizure of property and contents within.   
  
Rogue slipped to the hard, hot cement, drawing her knees up under her chin. She didn't cry; all the rest of her tears had flown down the drain with the water from the shower. She just remained there for hours, she didn't really know how long exactly, until a patrolling police officer stopped in front of the doorway.   
  
"Miss," he began. "Do ya need some help?" When she didn't reply, he bent over and reached for her bare hand. "C'mon, miss. Let's get you up an'…"  
  
"Don' touch me," Rogue said numbly. She tucked her hands against her chest. "No one…can touch me."   
  
The man backed off. "It's jus'…ya can't loiter 'round here. It's not safe." He paused. "Ah'm sorry."  
  
She nodded and stood up. "Me, too."   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	6. I've always got you

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, not mine, yadda.  
  
Author's Notes: Angst is always fun. This is my motto and it's served me well. Thank you for all the support, and enjoy this final chapter;)   
  
****  
  
Manumission  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
If you say you never were here,  
  
That you´ve never been seen.  
  
I wonder where we´d stand   
  
If you had stayed in my dreams?   
  
You should have stayed in my dreams.  
  
You should have made me stop.  
  
´Cause you were just a dream,  
  
Since I had given up.  
  
****  
  
They arrived back at Xavier's mansion less than forty-eight hours later. Remy drove from the airport; they'd barely spoken on the plane and on their last night in the city, he'd slept on the floor while she took the bed. That damn bed. Part of him had wanted to destroy it. The other half wanted to take it back to New York with them.   
  
She'd cried that night, too. And as always, he'd been unable to comfort her.   
  
Jubilation Lee greeted them on the main staircase, bubbling over with post-vacation excitement. "You're back!" she exclaimed. "Did you have a good time in the swamp?"  
  
Rogue looked away, so it was up to Remy to reply, "Oui, petit. It were a trip t'remember."   
  
"Ah'm gonna go unpack."   
  
Jubilee watched Rogue listlessly continue up the stairs with her bags. Once she was out of earshot, she threw Remy a frown. "Okay…what happened?"  
  
He patted her head. "Why don' you tell Gambit w'at's cookin' for dinner?"  
  
"Are you two fighting again?!" The teenager's lower lip protruded. "How am I ever gonna get to be a bridesmaid if you two keep on…"  
  
"Petit." Remy cut her off softly, but firmly. "Dinner?"  
  
"Storm's makin' spareribs," she muttered. Heaving a great sigh, Jubilee stomped down the stairs.   
  
She thundered into the kitchen a moment later and found Ororo Munroe stirring a pot of spicy-sweet sauce for the ribs which were almost ready to be tossed onto the fire Logan was stoking on the patio grill. It was a homey scene, but Jubilee was a little thundercloud on legs and much too preoccupied to appreciate it.  
  
"Did I hear Rogue and Remy out there?" Storm asked her as she plopped onto a barstool.   
  
"They're back," the girl scowled. "Fighting, too. Rogue's all depressed and Remy's not much better. I swear!" She pounded her fist onto the cool tiles of the counter. "I don't know what's wrong with them!!"  
  
"Whatever it is, Jubilee…" The Professor glided into the kitchen and stopped his hovering chair just in front of the youngest X-Man. "…it is hardly our business."   
  
Shamed slightly, she fidgeted on the stool. "I know it's not. I just wish they could be happy."   
  
Xavier paused for a long moment, his long fingers touching his smooth temple. "They have been," he finally said. "But happiness…it can't always last."   
  
Storm watched him as he moved out of the kitchen as quietly as he'd entered it. Jubilee looked at her. "What does that mean?"   
  
The older woman shook head. "I couldn't guess, dear."  
  
****  
  
It was raining outside. It suited her mood perfectly. Let the whole world weep with her, Rogue thought, curling up around an oversized teddy bear and staring at the rivulets of water twisting their way down the windows. Remy had won her this bear at a carnival back when they first met. She'd cherished it ever since, sleeping with it when it became clear that she couldn't sleep with him.   
  
She closed her eyes, fresh agony drenching her worse than the rain would if she opened her window. They hadn't really spoken more than a few words to each other since dawn broke that morning as if they'd forged an unspoken agreement to never discuss it. Rogue hadn't even sat next to him at dinner, and he'd barely looked at her when he passed her the platter of ribs.   
  
When she'd passed them on without taking any, Bobby Drake had commented that she'd eaten too much gumbo in Louisiana to be hungry. Remy had choked on a mouthful of rice, and Rogue excused herself, leaving a very confused Iceman to wonder just what he'd said wrong. She made a mental note to apologize to him later.   
  
So, this was how it was going to be from then on, she decided. Avoiding, hiding, forgetting…when those were the very things they'd sworn not to do. Rogue tossed the bear aside and stood up from the bay window. When weighed down by too much thought, the best thing to do was not think for awhile. And there was no better place to do that than in Xavier's Danger Room.   
  
She pulled on her green and gold uniform; it hugged her body like a second skin, but not nearly as comfortably as he'd held her. Rogue tugged her gloves on with angry motions. When was she going to stop doing that?? Comparing everything to having sex with Remy…was it going to take months? Years? How long until her life could get back to normal? How long until it stopped hurting?   
  
After securing her hair in a high ponytail, she yanked her bedroom door open, and if she hadn't taken a second to look where she was going, she would have run straight into Remy's chest.   
  
"Whoa, chere." He caught her by her shoulders and held her at arm's length. "W'ere you goin' all done up t'fight?"  
  
"Danger Room." She jerked out of his grip. "Ah got some energy to burn off."   
  
"You know dat's de firs' t'ing you say t'Gambit since…"  
  
Rogue cut him off, "Ah know. Believe me…Ah know." Turning on her heel, she marched back into her room.   
  
He followed, and there was a pause until he closed the door. "Why we makin' dis so hard, chere?" Remy asked. "Dere be no cause for it."  
  
"Do ya wanna pretend we're all happy-go-lucky?" She glared up at him. "Maybe that's okay when we're 'round everyone else, but when it's jus' us, Ah can't make believe."   
  
His gloved fingers glanced across her chin, feeling the slight wobble of too much emotion there. "Make believe w'at?"  
  
"Make believe…" Rogue sniffed, looking away. "…that Ah don' want ya."   
  
"Who said we got t'make believe dat?"   
  
She swiped her hand over her cheeks. "Don't'cha think that'd be the best thing we could do? Maybe if we make like it never happened, we won' be thinkin' 'bout it all day, every day. Maybe we can get on with our lives. Or somethin'."   
  
Remy nodded. "Maybe. Or maybe we jus' make ourselves a million times more mis'rable, actin' like we ain' never had somet'ing so special."   
  
"Ah can't see how not torturin' myself could make me more miserable, swamp rat."  
  
"Rogue." She met his eyes, intending to only glance at him for a brief moment, but he caught her up in his stare, and all she wanted to do was melt into him once again. "Speakin' only for himself, de real torture for Gambit always been not knowin', never havin'. Now dat he know, and now dat he got t'have for one nigh', he don' wanna go back t'dat, chere."  
  
She shook her head, the end of her ponytail sweeping across the nape of her neck. "Ya make it sound so easy. Like if Ah jus' try real hard an' think like that, it'll all be okay. Ah don' think it works that way. Ah want ya, an' Ah can't have ya. Ah've been used to that. But least before all o' this, Ah didn' know what Ah was missin'. Now…Ah do. An' it hurts." Rogue crossed her hands and pressed them against her chest. "It hurts so bad, Remy…"  
  
"Chere…" He reached for her, but she drew back. "Don' you do dat, girl." Anger flashed in his eyes. "Don' you be pullin' away from dis Caj'n. Not again. Dere ain' not'ing in dis world he hate more den when you won' let him in."   
  
"Ah let ya in!!" she shouted. "An' look where it got us!! More fucked up than before!!"  
  
Remy plunged his fingers into his thick hair. "You t'ink dat de only way o' letting someone in be t'rough de body?!" Shaking his head, he grabbed her, putting one gloved hand on each side of her face. "Non, chere. W'at you got t'do…is let me in up here." He released her and covered the center of her chest. "An' in here. You gonna do dat? Or do we keep on runnin' 'round each ot'er, an' never meetin' up?"  
  
"Ah don' know," she whispered. "Sometimes love…jus' ain' enough."  
  
He scowled. "Gambit hate dat twangy, country shit you be listenin' to."  
  
Suddenly, she laughed, and there was nothing bitter about it. Her entire body relaxed; the cloud of doom and gloom over her pretty face lifted. Remy's frown disappeared. "You stop my heart, chere, when you go an' smile like dat."   
  
Rogue covered her mouth with her hand. "Ah don' know what's wrong with me, sugah."   
  
"Maybe we jus' figurin' out w'at everybody else already know," he ventured. "Dat bein' toget'er takes a lot o' work. An' sex…it don' help clear up everyt'ing." Remy reached for her again, and this time she let him pull her against his body. "We got our fair share o' de issues. But dat don' mean we give up. Oui?"  
  
She didn't echo him, but she wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed, lightly as not to crack his ribs. "Ah was startin' to regret…takin' that damn charm at all."   
  
"Don' do dat," Remy told her. "Don' be sorry for w'at we had, chere. 'Cause you jus' never know. We migh' get it back someday."   
  
"Maybe," Rogue whispered.   
  
"An' until den…" He broke their embrace and reached for a paper bag she hadn't even noticed he'd set down onto the carpet next to her door. "Dere's somet'ing I want t'give you."   
  
Rogue gave him a puzzled look. "What's this, sugah?"  
  
"I did some shoppin' on de day we left. Open it."   
  
She took the bag over to her bed and sat down on the edge. Taking a breath, she stuck her hand inside and pulled out the first thing she touched. It was a gold and white box of Café Du Monde beignet mix. Her eyes watered. "Remy…"  
  
"Keep goin', chere."  
  
Another dig into the bag produced a matching canister of the restaurant's unique chicory coffee blend. "Half o' dat in a cup, an' half warm milk," he told her. "For de days when it jus' be too much trouble t'make de beignets."  
  
Rogue licked her dry lips and reached into the bag again, pulling out a thin book. "Recipes?" she puzzled. Then she read the whole title. "Oh! From the Court o' the Sisters!"   
  
"I cook dem for you, chere. No need t'burn down de kitchen when we be wantin' t'remember."   
  
She threw him her best mock glare as she dug into the bag once more, producing a coffee cup, set of pencils, a pad of paper and a refrigerator magnet that all read, in gaudy script, "Naw'lins." Rogue laughed, looking them over. Scribbled on the pad of paper in Remy's messy handwriting was, "Never forget, I love you."   
  
"Ah won'," she told him, looking back up at him with shining eyes. "Ah couldn't…even for the two seconds Ah tried."   
  
He cleared his throat and blinked several times. "One more t'ing in dere."   
  
Rogue rooted around until her fingers touched something soft. Frowning, she pulled out a small, stuffed little stick person. A string on its wrist attached a price tag as well as a tiny bag of straight pins. "What on earth?"  
  
"Voodoo doll," he told her, taking it from her and opening the little bag. "Gambit figure since we know dis stuff work now…when Cyke start in on de team too hard, we do dis…" He extracted one pin and stuck it into the doll's side. "…an' den take de day off."   
  
Her laughter was medicine itself, healing all the wounds between them for the time being.  
  
And down in the boathouse, Scott Summers glanced up from his training schedule, winced, and put a hand to his ribs.  
  
****  
  
How do you say goodbye?   
  
How do you get free?   
  
I tried to say goodbye.  
  
But you´re still here with me.  
  
-Sophie Zelmani  
  
****  
  
Fini 


End file.
